Before Euphoria’s season two premiere, the show’s star Zendaya posted a trigger warning on her Instagram account: “This season, maybe even more so than the last, is deeply emotional and deals with subject matter that can be triggering and difficult to watch.”
Everything about Euphoria is gratuitous: the drugs and overdoses, sex and break-ups, the toxic relationships, the Y2K-throwback fashion, which would break any reasonable high school’s dress code policy. The HBO drama, which follows the lives of American teenagers in suburban southern California, is more like a Gen Z soap opera than it is an accurate portrayal of coming of age.
Of course, that’s what makes it so addictive to watch. The usual anxieties of high school – like homework, detention, stressing over getting into university – don’t exist in the Euphoria universe. Instead, we get lurid love triangles, blackmail and hysterical meltdowns. In season two, the show’s narrator and main protagonist Rue (Zendaya) has relapsed and is trying to keep it a secret from her girlfriend Jules, while getting high with their mutual friend Eliott (Dominic Fike). Meanwhile, Cassie (Sydney Sweeney) is secretly hooking up with her best friend Maddy’s (Alexa Demie) on-again-off-again boyfriend Nate (Jacob Elordi).
In the second season, many of Euphoria’s minor characters take the spotlight. The season opens with an episode that covers the backstory of Fez (Angus Cloud), Rue’s drug dealer and protector, who becomes the sensitive love interest to Lexi Howard (Maude Apatow), Cassie’s quiet and bookish sister. Episode three unpacks the history of Nate’s dad Cal (Eric Dane), which humanizes one of the show’s main villains without fully redeeming his despicable actions.
The final two episodes are set on the opening night of Lexi’s high school play, which is a series of searing vignettes exposing the dark secrets and private insecurities of her friends and family. Living in her sister’s shadow, Lexi makes herself the protagonist, the all-knowing outsider who can see through high school drama. At the same time, chaos is unfolding at Fez’s house, while Nate (Jacob Elordi) reveals some of the roots of his traumatic relationship with his father.
Some moments show an overly grotesque depiction of sex, drug use, violence and gore, a type of exploitation that amounts to trauma porn. Drawn-out sex scenes and the dynamics of abusive relationships are amplified by Euphoria’s highly-stylized cinematography and moody colour palette. And when Rue hits rock bottom in episode five and is passed out in a bathtub as an unnervingly stoic drug dealer injects her with morphine, it’s like watching a car crash – it feels horrible and bleak, but you can’t look away.
But for all the darkness in Euphoria, moments of self-awareness and levity break the veneer. After reaching her breaking point while watching the caricature of herself in Lexi’s play, a red-faced Cassie storms onto the stage and screams “I can play the villain!”, marking the climax of her good girl-turned-backstabber arc this season.
In the audience, watching the riot unfold on stage, Rue gasps and winces – just as the viewer does at home. It’s a reminder that yes, this show will make you cringe – but it’s also just a fictitious TV show.
Other recent TV shows brilliantly cover the high school experience that is closer to most teenagers’ reality, like Netflix’s Never Have I Ever and Sex Education. Euphoria, on the other hand, shouldn’t be watched as if it’s a window into Gen Z life.
Plan your screen time with the weekly What to Watch newsletter. Sign up today.